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((You gotta bear with me, I don't have time to finish typing it before the 16th and a lot of the formatting didn't copy over))

“All right Ket, sit down,” the Skipper said entering the small, stone-walled room that served as Renegade Flight’s briefing room.
Ketku ceased entertaining his squadron mates and pulled up a seat among them. The small room was one of many sub-chambers of the Massassi Temple on Yavin IV.
Yavin IV was miserable. Jungle as far as the sensor could… well sense, and either cold and wet, or hot and wet, with no real warning as to which. Even ambassadors with years of diplomatic training would find themselves ‘testy’ in this environment.
“It’s a big one kids,” the Skipper continued, his voice’s normal authority amplified by the close, stone walls. “It’s Dantooine.”
Few new the Skipper’s real name. He was an older man, an accomplished pilot, a respected Alliance flight officer, and a beloved husband. Even a goof like Ketku knew to shut up and listen when he spoke.
“Two objectives: Me and the new guy,” he said singling out a young, baby-faced human, “will escort Captain Doar and the Lifebringer to the Alliance base to evacuate the skeleton-crew remaining. Narra, you’ll take Ket, Phister and the Bothan to investigate a distress signal from a spy entrenched in an Imperial facility in the southern hemisphere.”
Arhul Narra could have passed for the Skipper’s son. Same chiseled features, same close-cut, already graying hair, and same aura of authority. Self-righteous hard-ass, some have said. Few as committed to the goals of the Rebel Alliance.
“Make no mistake, this ain’t a stroll down a golden Coriellian beach. This is the razor cat’s den. This ‘Imperial facility’ is a cybernetics lab, code-named The Warren. All we know for certain is that our guy’s emergency commlink is active and there’s an increase in sub-orbital traffic in the area. We’ve got a lock on his cords and less time than brains.”
“What are we in for, Skip?” the short (even for a Bothan), light-furred pilot asked in his overly-cautious (even for a Bothan) manner.
“You each have a copy of the intel to-date sent to your datapads. Most of it indicates pretty standard replacement-limb research. Some wildlife testing, large wildlife… in some cases. But before the spy’s E.C. was activated we were able to get specs on human brain experimentation. Whatever it was, it was enough to scare the poodoo out of our techs. Could be our guy’s cover is blown and he’s being detained. You go in, you get him, you get out.” The Skipper pulled a chair up in front of his men and sat down in it backwards. “Now let’s talk worst-case-scenario…”
“Yes… let’s…” the worried Bothan added.
“If there is a containment breach there could be chemical or biohazard leaks, there could be armed personnel, there could quite literally be a damn razor cat down there for all I know. Prepare for a nightmare… hope you get painted a pretty picture.”
The squadron’s second in command finally chimed in. “What’s the rush, Skip? Why send us in blind?” Narra asked.
The Skipper took a deep breathe, preparing his next words carefully. “We lost the team on Skariff…”. The team was noticeably stunned. “…Casian Ander was among them…”
Everyone chewed on that…
“Damn… he owed me a hundred credits.” Ket felt the need to say.
“Yeah… me too.” Phister said low, fixated on the floor.
“…There’s more,” Narra sadly pointed out.
“The Tantive IV has been captured.”
The Skipper’s words stinging, hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. No one spoke for a long moment, a silence that rung in everyone’s ears. The ship of the royal family of Alderaan… in Imperial hands…
The Skipper struggled to continue. “We’ve received a transmission that all aboard were killed.”
A deafening eternity of silence.
“We’re not sure what the team at Skariff was able to recover, or if it’s now back in the Empire’s possession. We’re not sure if our people on Dantooine have been compromised… and we’re all there is. There is no backup and no second chances. You four,” he said motioning to Narra, Ketku, Phister and Arnie ‘The Bothan’, “take whatever weapons you can squeeze into your X-Wings.” The Skipper stood, pushed in his chair and collected himself. “Questions?” No one responded. “Good. I want you all ready to lift off in three hours. I want to be star-side by oh-four-hundred.”
He left the room to his second in command. Narra stood…
“All right kids, take an hour, do what you gotta do, and be back here, suited up and ready for pre-flight.”
All, even Ketku, who would normally lighten the mood with a joke about a Stormtrooper’s intelligence, or the parentage of an Imperial Officer, carried on in silence. Everyone took their hour to feed a pet, water a plant, find a bunk with a loved one. But Narra’s customary pre-mission process involved splashing water on his face, a silent pep-talk in the mirror (often mistaken for a prayer), and straight to his locker to suit up. His locker meticulous. His rifle as well-worn and well cared for as his X-Wing (the former even having several rumors about it that the vets used to scare the rookies).
Narra proceeded to the flight deck where he insisted on overseeing any repair, tuning, even the fueling of his X-Wing. A ship suitably named Reciprocity. He loved this thing like most men love a woman. He even supervised the insertion of his astromech. He ran his hand down her nose as he did his preflight check, all the while giving the ship a pep-talk, not unlike the one he just gave himself.
When Narra returned to the briefing room he found the rest of the men already suited up and waiting. Even ‘the new guy’, Arvel was ready for orders. To the casual observer, this motely crew, clad nearly all in red, would be a silly site to behold. But beneath the red, a team of warriors, a brotherhood of soldiers, men capable of great and terrible things. A team of clowns, but killers. Scumbags, but heroes.
“What are you doing here?” Narra demanded. “It’s nearly forty minutes early.”
“The same thing you’re doing here L.T.” Ketku responded leaning against a wall. He had dark, tussled hair, falling almost to his large blue eyes. He definitely had an impact with the female members of the Alliance… and that would usually only last until he spoke.
“Alright then… let’s hit it. Get yourselves armed and let’s get preflights out of the way.” At Narra’s word the team headed to scrounge what weapons they could find leftover in the make-shift headquarters. “We’re looking at CQC gents. So be thinking carbines and pistols.”
“CQC?” Arvel asked.
“For the love of Xander New Guy. Close Quarters Combat,” Ket answered in his infamous sarcasm.
The team picked through a hodge-podge of CDEF Pistols, ancient slug throwers and stolen Imperial E-11’s while Narra just stood aside.
“Why’s the L.T. not arming up?” Arvel asked again.
Ketku and Phister exchanged unnoticed, menacing glances.
“Haven’t you heard? L.T.’s got a Jedi killer.” Ket began. “Yeah, rumor has it that his rifle is over a century old and was used to hunt Jedi.” Pause for effect. “He says a prayer when he knows he has to use it.”
Arvel and his naivete bought in instantly, having previously witnessed the mirror-talk.
“Na uh,” Phister added “He built it himself with pieces that he tore off his X-Wing...” He leaned in at Arvel. “…with his teeth.”
Arvel looked to Narra stowing his weapon, locking it into the hull of his X-Wing in a way that made the rookie believe this latest rumor as well. Phister and Ketku once again exchanged glances with a smirk. Mission accomplished.
Narra caught the Skipper out of the corner of his eye, suited up and ready as well. Flight helmet in one arm, wife Ellie in the other. Ellie was just shy of the Skipper’s age, but stunning and fit. Although, not many fat rebels out there, living off ration packs. With the exception of Porkins, who had an intolerance to the rations (poor guy would swell up and sweat constantly). Ellie was clearly upset. Narra couldn’t make out their words, but didn’t have to. The Skipper unclipped one of the medals from his flight suit and placed it in Ellie’s open palm, then closed her fingers around it. Narra recognized the significance instantly. Ellie threw her arms around the Skipper, sobbing, nearly collapsing to the floor. Narra looked away, dismissing what he saw.
No one’s business.
Narra caught up to his team, all doing the preflight checks that had been drilled into their heads.
Check! Double check! Repeat!
The Skipper’s and Narra’s voices echoing in each of their heads.
Check! Double check! Repeat! It will save your life some day!
Not a pilot among the Alliance that doesn’t sing it in their sleep as natural as snoring.
Check! Double check! Repeat!
Narra, as preached and practiced, began his second pre-flight check of the Reciprocity. If not out of habit and example, just to keep his mind off the capture of the Tantive IV and the princess Leia of Alderaan.
What if… Stop it Narra! Focus! Focus. Narra reminded himself. Check! Double check! Repeat!
The team was star-side well ahead of the Skipper’s time table, most likely all as equally driven and distracted as Narra.

Blue and white light danced off the hulls and cockpits of Renegade Flight. They formed a tight formation around the Gallowfree Transport, Lifebringer.
“Arvel,” the Skipper said over the comms, “you and I are glued to Cap’n Doar’s wing into the northern hemisphere. You stay with her first, you stay with me second.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Narra,” Skipper prompted.
“Okay boys, we’re going south, fast. Get down fast, get to the target even faster. We need to hit dirt a thousand meters out from our techies’ pin-point. Phister, you’re show.”
“This looks good L.T.”
An image appeared on their displays showing a small, flowered meadow, hidden by foothills.
“Looks good,” Narra agreed. “You three set down while I cover. When you’re cocked and locked, I’ll touch down. We move right away. Questions?”
After a brief moment the Skipper spoke up again. “You boys keep your head on a swivel down there. I wanna be laughin’ about this in twenty hours. Me, the new guy, and the ‘Bringer will be on alt frequency one. Out.”
After another brief moment, “I want to be laughing about this in twenty hours!” Ketku mocked.
“I haven’t switched over yet Ket.”
“Sorry sir!”
“No you’re not. Good luck boys.”
“You heard the Skipper ladies, stay focused. Our safety comes first. We’ve all done the four-man team drills. Use it.”
“We won’t let you down L.T.” Arni said eagerly.
A repeated kissy sound came over the comms. No doubt Ketku, being that Phister’s burst of laughter is unmistakable. Even if Narra found it funny, no one would be able to tell (with or without his flight helmet on).

Dantooine was a lush, primitive world. Vibrant green grass, two-meters tall in places, and purple flowering bushes sprinkled the landscape. Trees with blooms a meter in diameter littered the meadows, as if their seeds were carelessly blown from the palm of a child. Not but a few settlements of any technological significance. Many a settlement built with stone and mud. If any of the primitive tribes of this world were looking to the skies they may have mistaken their senses for the wrath of their gods. Four Incom T-65 X-Wings streaked across the early morning horizon. Fast and silent, silent at least for a few moments. The team dropped to the treetops, still at max throttle, coming up on Phister’s coordinates fast. In a whirl of grass, Phister, Ket and Arni hit dirt and immediately powered down. They armed up and created a parameter while Narra covered above. Once set the lieutenant touched down. He unlocked his rifle from the hull of his ship, and join his team, taking point.
From planet fall to beginning the advance on the Warren was no more than four minutes, and in radio silence. Another drill beaten into their heads. The kilometer trek to the front door took a further thirty minutes over the terrain and vegetation, under the threat of Imperials or wild life.
They arrived at the pin-point to find an oddly modern building, but far to small to be the facility reported by the spy. It was dull, durasteel grey, four sides and no windows. Pretty typical Imperial design. It certainly wasn’t hidden, save for a few small foothills, but if not for the spy’s coordinates, they could have wandered past the place.
The team paused at the last bit of cover the tall plains grass would offer them.
Nothing.
For the last five hundred meters there were no natives, no grazing bols, no voritor lizards, typically not afraid of humanoids. No birds singing. Even the insects were silent, if they were even present.
“I got a bad feeling about this.”
“I gotta side with the Bothan on this one, L.T.” Ketku added agreeing with Arni for perhaps the first time ever.
“Yeah…” Narra, also clearly uneasy. “What’ve you got Phister?”
“Not much L.T.” he replied, lowering his electrobinoculars. “There’s no evidence of heavy traffic. In fact only a few sets of track leading to and from the front door.” He reviewed the readings on his datapad. “No harmful gases, no nothing.”
Phister was young and scruffy, easily disregarded as an expert on any matter, but few could read a landscape or track a beast like this rebel. He could find a wampa in a sand storm. His skill and certainly accurate assessment was no comfort at this moment however. Narra allowed him a further few minutes to scan the environment.
“All right, let’s get this show on the road. Arni, point. Phister, left. Ket, watch our backs.”
The foursome readied their weapons and slowly rose from the grass. They moved silently and singularly to the only door of the structure. Narra hand-signaled to Ketku, who slung his weapon and retrieved a tool kit from his flight suit. He set to work on the door’s keypad, while Narra took his place at the rear of the squad. After a moment he held a thumbs-up and paused. Once the other three trained their sites on the closed door, he released the lock. The door slid open with a hiss and a breeze to reveal a short, dark hallway. Occasionally a malfunctioning wall-screen would flicker, or a spark would leap from a damaged circuit providing the only light. Arni and Phister moved in several meters and dropped to a knee on opposite sides of the hall. Ketku and Narra came just inside the door, allowing it to hiss closed again. The hiss faded into nearly complete silence and Dantooine’s daylight was no longer of service.

Thanks. Never meant to break the rules, just throwing half baked ideas that other contestants could build off of.

Also, that Sai idea is still valid. I've seen knucklers, knives, & other short weapons. But I have never seen a weapon that Disarms/Steals from you Opponents. I know they look like Lightsaber Hilts, but I don't use them as such, especially when gunmen get too close IRL.

Thanks. Never meant to break the rules, just throwing half baked ideas that other contestants could build off of.

Also, that Sai idea is still valid. I've seen knucklers, knives, & other short weapons. But I have never seen a weapon that Disarms/Steals from you Opponents. I know they look like Lightsaber Hilts, but I don't use them as such, especially when gunmen get too close IRL.